Why am I here?

I am here to write. Does it have to be something more? Something extraordinary? Or can it be as simple as, words on a page? Putting words on a page feels good to me. It feels like swimming through water, running with the wind, dancing to music, chopping vegetables for a soup, or driving with or without a destination. It feels like organizing, sifting through things, and discovering what brings me joy or what is wasting space. Writing feels productive. It feels like movement, like connecting the dots to discover what the dots represent. Writing is a way of moving through the world.

And there are times when I enjoy the journey more than the arrival. I like to be en route. I like the middle, the in between, the part after the beginning and before the end. Although, in writing, this is the hardest part because this space feels timeless. It feels infinite. There’s always room for more: more to discover and explore, more to learn, more to refine, more changes to make before reaching the final destination. And, how it is oh-so-easy to get lost here and forget where you were going or why you set out on this endeavor in the first place.

But when you write it all down, you have it all there: a map of your own creation. It may be a mess, it may seem impossible to comprehend but it’s there, something tangible. You have proof: I was here.

So I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m here because I’m here. And writing feels like life. The more I learn about life, the more I realize the most important feeling is the feeling of connection: connection to spirit, connection to humanity, connection to nature, connection to the universe, and connection to God/Source. And putting words on a page helps me feel connected.